


We'll Take It Over Ice Tonight

by leyley09



Series: A Daydream Away [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prequel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leyley09/pseuds/leyley09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're just a daydream away<br/>I wouldn't know what to say if I had you</p>
<p>Or, the story of what happened before the Truth or Drink video that no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Take It Over Ice Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Paragraphs in italics are lyrics to the All Time Low song "A Daydream Away" which inspired this. You should go listen to it. Right now. I'll wait here.
> 
> Back? Wasn't that great? I was listening to that shortly after I finished Speak the Truth, Even if Your Voice Shakes and thought "that's the backstory I was imagining, that right there." So I decided to share it with all of you. You're welcome. (And I'm sorry.)
> 
> Thanks as always to those who keep me from looking stupid, CeruleanDarkangelis and  ChelseaIBelieve

_ I wish you could see your face right now _

_ 'Cause you're grinning like a fool _

_ And we're sitting on your kitchen floor _

_ On a Tuesday afternoon _

_ It doesn't matter when we get back _

_ To doing what we do _

_ 'Cause right now could last forever _

_ Just as long as I'm with you _

 

“I bet you can’t,” Tyler says, mischievous grin firmly in place.

“Fuck you, I totally can,” Jamie asserts. “I can absolutely fit more grapes in my mouth without crushing them than you can.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine, I will.” 

These grapes are some kind of science project grown next to a nuclear plant, bright green and ridiculously huge - roughly the size of a loonie. He gets 28 of them in before he feels one, way in the back, crack open. The resulting juice spray almost makes him choke. Grapes bounce off the cabinets, the stack of dirty dishes next to the sink, and Tyler’s face.

Tyler collapses onto the floor, nearly hysterical with laughter. His giggles echo throughout the room, drowning out Jamie’s coughs.

Jamie can’t even be annoyed about the laughing. Most of the stupid things he does are intended to make Tyler laugh. Tyler’s breathtaking when he laughs, eyes shining, face flushing, dimples flashing. Jamie can think of worse ways to spend a Tuesday afternoon; the memory of this moment is going to be well worth skipping 18th Century British Literature.

“Jamie,” Tyler gets out between giggles, “you are my favorite; don’t ever change.”

As long as he can keep making Tyler laugh, he won’t.

 

_ You're just a daydream away _

_ I wouldn't know what to say if I had you _

_ And I'll keep you a daydream away _

_ Just watch from a safe place _

_ So I never have to lose _

 

Back when Jamie first met Tyler, he thought the nearly gravitational pull to be in Tyler’s presence was simply curiosity, maybe an almost academic fascination with what felt like a completely different species. Tyler was so different from him, so comfortable in front of the other students in the astronomy elective they’d both signed up for freshman year. Tyler’s presentation on the history of Western astrology - totally cheating by using his history major knowledge, the little shit - was both the most fascinating and the most ridiculous thing Jamie had heard since moving to Dallas earlier that fall. 

Jamie had just finished his own presentation on the composition of black holes and was still in the back of the room trying to talk himself out of throwing up due to leftover nerves. The comparison between his shaking voice and complete inability to make eye contact with the class and Tyler’s infectious grin and confident delivery was a little humiliating. He’d just gotten his nausea under control as Tyler finished, and he was stunned when Tyler dropped into the open seat next to him as the next student started.

“Christ, I hate oral presentations. They’re the worst, right?” He kicked Jamie in the ankle, lightly. Jamie couldn’t believe this guy was actually talking to  _ him _ .

“Oh, I love them. That’s why I’m sitting back here trying not to throw up - too excited.” 

Sarcasm loses its effectiveness when your voice is shaking that much, but somehow Tyler managed to catch it. His giggles almost got them removed from the class, and Jamie’s never been able to get him to go away since. 

He hasn’t wanted him to go away since.

It took four people in one day - over spring break while Tyler was back at home and Jamie was stuck on campus - asking “so where’s your boyfriend spending his break?” before Jamie was blindsided by the realization that he had a massive, overwhelming crush on his new best friend. He was fortunate that his roommate was gone for the break, so there was no one present to witness his truly epic freak out. Twenty-four hours later, the freak out was under control. He had no reason to think Tyler returned those feelings, so until that evidence presented itself, he was going to act like everything was exactly the same. 

The worst part was  _ it worked _ . No one pointed at him the next week, once Tyler was back, and shouted “oh my god, you’ve got a crush on your friend”. Tyler didn’t seem to notice anything was different, because he acted exactly the same as he had before. That’s where the worst part came in; it’s exhausting to spend 19 out of 24 hours in one day with someone if you’re trying to act like you aren’t crazy about them. Jamie had to check every automatic response, from verbal statements to the urge to reach out and touch Tyler all the time. The remainder of the semester was overwhelming. Combining the mental exhaustion of schoolwork with the emotional exhaustion of being around Tyler was not good.

Summer break helped. Nearly four months of only communicating with Tyler via text or email made him forget how hard it was to censor himself in the moment. By the time he arrived back on campus in August, he thought maybe he’d gotten his crush under control. He thought that right up until he was tackled into the grass in front of his dorm and looked up at Tyler’s beaming face. 

His only coherent thought at that point was  _ oh fuck. _

But he got better at dealing with it. Eventually, you build up a callus to things that wear at the same spot over and over. It got easier to ignore the flash of  _ please don’t stop _ every time Tyler touched him, the squeeze around his heart whenever Tyler smiled at him, the breathless ache every time Tyler introduced him to his newest boyfriend. Only occasionally did he need to hide someplace, away from Tyler, just to wallow for a while. He made it a goal to not fantasize about Tyler; sometimes he even succeeded.

For every happy daydream he had about finding out Tyler felt the same, he had at least two about Tyler  _ not _ feeling the same. He could never imagine Tyler being upset, but he could imagine the slow creeping awkwardness that would infiltrate their friendship. Tyler would spend less and less time with him out of a fear of leading him on. Eventually, they’d only see each other in groups, and at some point, even that would taper off. He’d lose the best friend he’d ever had and one of the only people who seemed to really understand him…. for what? He might not be the most special person in Tyler’s life, but he was more special than pretty much everybody else, and that was going to be enough.

 

_ We would go out on the weekend _

_ To escape our busy lives _

_ And we'd laugh at all the douche-bag guys _

_ Chasing down their desperate wives _

_ I would drink a little too much _

_ You would offer me a ride _

_ And I would offer you a t-shirt _

_ And you would stay another night _

 

It’s thirty-five cent wings night at this bar, which means the place is maxing out its legal occupancy limits. Most of the crowd is barely legal college students, but there’s always a small subset of suburban housewives who either don’t want to admit their actual age or do want to find a grateful frat boy to pay attention to them. Tyler, unfortunately for him, looks like he fits that description to a T. 

“What the fuck does a guy have to do to get a beer without the next Eva Longoria trying to grab his ass?” Tyler complains as he slides into the booth next to Jamie.

“Now you know how it feels,” June laughs from across the table. “Welcome to every Friday night in a bar anywhere.” She leans into Jason, settling as his arm wraps around her shoulders. 

Jamie drops his gaze into the beer in his glass. He can feel the heat radiating off of Tyler all along his left side, and he leans a little further into the corner to escape it.

“Did you see this one, though? She’s bouncing around the bar, hitting on pretty much everyone that’s still standing, and I’m pretty sure, based on the jewelry, that the guy following her around yelling ‘Christy!’ is her husband. How fucking tacky.” 

Tyler’s the only person Jamie knows who could say that sincerely in the godawful tank top and snapback combo he’s wearing. 

“How’d you get her to leave you alone?” Jason asks.

“I told her I was here with my boyfriend.”

Jamie frowns at the table.

“You’ll protect me from the scary cougars, right baby?” Tyler elbows Jamie, fluttering his eyelashes when Jamie looks up at him.

“Who, me?”

“No, the other available guy at the table. Yes, you.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess I can do that.” Jamie looks back at his beer. He’s going to need so much more of that.

‘Christy the Scary Cougar’ only seems satisfied that Tyler really  _ isn’t _ an option for her after he snuggles right up against Jamie, burrowing under Jamie’s arm and putting his legs in Jamie’s lap. It’s torturous and unfair. As a distraction, Jamie starts counting all of the nice things he does that should have saved him from this bad karma. When that runs out, he orders more beer and starts listing all the nice things he should start doing to prevent this in the future.

An hour or seventy later, everyone at their table seems ready to go. The bottles in front of Jamie look like a miniature bowling alley. 

“So I’m driving you home,” Tyler starts, gently nudging Jamie upright as he climbs out of the booth.

“No, its, its like the, uh, wrong, um, you know, the other way.”

“Yes, Jamie, I do live in the opposite direction from you. But you’re an engineering major that can’t remember the word ‘direction’, so I’m making sure you get home. This is not up for debate.”

They weave their way through tables, chairs, bar stools, and fifty bazillion drunken college students before they can escape to the outside. The air is brisk in the darkness, but doesn’t do much for Jamie’s fuzzy brain. Tyler parked ninety-one miles from the bar (or so it feels to Jamie), and the air around them gets quieter the farther they walk.

“Okay, what’s up with you, J?”

Jamie stumbles a bit; he hopes there was a rock there. “I, uh, what?” 

Tyler moves closer, pulls Jamie’s arm over his shoulder. “You’re being really weird tonight, quieter than normal, even for you. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Tyler replies, clearly unconvinced.

They stumble along in silence for what feels like another fourteen miles before Jamie works up his nerve.

“You could, if you want, I mean, it’s just silly,” he tapers off into silence. “Or, uh, not, I guess.”

“What could I do?”

“What?”

“You said ‘you could’, but you never said what I ‘could’ do.”

Oh! “Oh, uh, you could stay, at mine, if you don’t want to drive home.”

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks J.”

Finally, Tyler’s car appears miraculously at the curb in front of them. Jamie feels like the  definition of ‘poured’ into the front seat, and if he were less drunk, he might be more uncomfortable with Tyler fastening his seat belt for him. As it is, he’s too busy trying not to throw up to pay much attention to that. Tyler drives carefully, god bless him, and Jamie makes it home without ruining the interior of his car.

The stairs are more treacherous than usual, and Tyler takes his key from him after the third time he misses the deadbolt. Inside, Tyler pushes him towards the bathroom with instructions to brush his teeth for about an hour. He has to do it again after forcing down the bottle of Gatorade Tyler brings him from the kitchen; he hopes future Jamie appreciates his hard work.

He manages to strip down to his boxers without any help, which his already scuffed pride is grateful for. He falls into bed and hopes for unconsciousness. He’s startled abruptly awake when the bed moves next to him.

“Shove over, man, jesus christ. You’re taking up the whole bed.” Tyler’s pushing at him as he grumbles.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed?”

“With me?” Jamie knows he’s had too much to drink, but he’s certain he didn’t offer or ask for that. Well, pretty certain.

“Jamie, seriously, have you slept on your couch? That thing should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention. I am absolutely not sleeping on that, and I’m too fucking old to be sleeping on just the floor. So move the fuck over, already.”

Jamie moves the fuck over. All the way to the wall. This bed is technically made for two people to sleep in, but the mattress manufacturers clearly assume that those two people are going to be comfortable touching each other. In broad daylight, stone sober, Jamie’s perfectly comfortable touching Tyler. Mostly drunk, in the dark, and about to be unconscious? Jamie would sell someone a kidney to be allowed to touch Tyler right now, but it’s not like that, and he’s terrified his sleeping brain won’t remember that detail.

It takes him a very long time to fall asleep.

 

_ But you're just a daydream away _

_ I wouldn't know what to say if I had you _

_ And I'll keep you a daydream away _

_ Just watch from a safe place _

_ So I never have to lose _

 

Even now, in their senior year, Jamie is still waiting for these feelings to go away. It’s been long enough, surely, that even his stubborn brain should recognize that there is no hope. He’s never been that lucky.

When he wakes up the next morning - back plastered to his bedroom wall, front plastered to Tyler’s back - he has a distinct urge to cry. Tyler’s migrated across the bed since Jamie allowed himself to pass out and quite literally could not get any closer. Jamie’s not sure who’s responsible for tangling their fingers together and wedging their hands under Tyler’s hip, but he doesn’t appreciate it. 

Jamie can’t really feel the fingers in his right hand once he gets them away from Tyler. He moves slowly, trying to ease away from Tyler without waking him. He slowly tips Tyler forward until he’s sprawled out over the rest of the bed, face pressed into Jamie’s pillow. Jamie inches his way down until he can climb out at the foot of the bed and tiptoes out of the bedroom, desperate for Tyler to stay asleep. 

A sticky note with “Just press start” scribbled across it is attached to the face of his coffeemaker. He pressed the start button - he has  _ priorities _ \- and then lets his head thud against the counter-top a few or six times. 

“That is not going to help your hangover.”

Excellent. His opportunity to pull himself together is now over; two minutes was not enough.

“It’s not making it any worse,” Jamie mumbles into the counter-top.

“Well, that’s encouraging. Breakfast?”

“Pop Tarts or toast.”

“Is that a request?” Tyler chuckles.

“No, it’s an inventory. I was too busy with that mid-term project for Anderson’s class to shop this week. Take your pick. You can leave me to die.”

“I would never! I’ll heartlessly abandon a lot of people, J, but you are not one of them.” A cabinet door shuts a little harder than Jamie’s throbbing skull would like. There’s some crinkling wrapper noises - Pop Tarts then - and a plate is set next to him. He can just see it in the gap between his arm the the counter-top. A hand comes to rest on his back, just below where his neck and shoulders meet. Tyler’s thumb rubs slowly up and then back down the side of his neck. Jamie fights off a shiver.

“Are you really feeling that bad?” Tyler asks quietly.

“I’ve been worse,” Jamie mumbles back.

Tyler squeezes the base of his neck lightly, just once, before patting him on the shoulder and walking away. He puts his own Pop Tarts into the toaster and settles at the the tiny table in the corner.

“So, did I tell you I’ve got a date tonight?”

Tyler has  _ got _ to stop doing this to him. He can’t keep doing things that are just enough to give Jamie the faintest hope when it never gets any further than that. It’s not fair. 

“No.”

“Bullshit, I probably told you like three times already this week. It’s with this guy I keep running into at the coffee cart outside the humanities building, remember?”

Jamie remembers. He’s never met this ‘Brad’ guy, but he already wants to punch him in the face.

“Anyway, how dressed up is too dressed up for dinner and a movie?”

“A tux.”

“Jesus, Jamie, if you don’t want to help, just say so. I’ll go bother June instead.”

_ FUCK.  _ The shit he puts up with.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t get all bitchy.” Jamie heaves himself up off the counter with far more effort than should be necessary. He reaches into the cabinet in front of him and pulls down the matching coffee mugs his brother sent for Christmas, the ones covered in tiny, yellow rubber ducks. He pours coffee for both of them, adding just sugar to his and sugar and the ridiculously flavored creamer (that lives in his refrigerator only for Tyler’s use) to Tyler’s. He balances his plate on top of his mug before crossing the few feet to the table.

“Tyler, buddy; you know I’m terrible at fashion advice. I honestly don’t know why you’re asking me this at all. You’re always yelling at me about being underdressed, remember?”

Tyler sighs and rests his head on his hand. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry too. I’m just really nervous. I think I could really like this guy, and I don’t want to look stupid.”

“Then you should definitely go bother June. Just. Maybe call first this time?”

Tyler bursts out laughing; the reminder of the last time he’d shown up at June’s without warning is enough to break the tense moment. They finish the coffee and Pop Tarts with much less conversation. Tyler declines a shower; he’s already put all of last night’s clothes back on, and he’ll just clean up at home. He hugs Jamie before he leaves, both arms wrapped low around Jamie’s back, face smushed into his throat. Jamie wants both to die and for time to come to a complete stop. 

He locks the door behind Tyler instead and uses his last few moments of energy to return to his bedroom. He faceplants into the bed, pulls a pillow over his head, and wonders if he has the strength to smother himself.

 

_ We never stood a chance out there _

_ Shooting love in real-time _

_ So we'll take it over ice tonight _

_ With a little salt _

_ And a little lime _

 

“You should tell him.”

June’s words startle Jamie. He jumps so badly the contents of his cup slosh over onto the floor...and his shoes.

“What?!”

She glares at him. “You. Should. Tell. Him.”

“Um, no.”

“Not even going to consider it?”

“Already have, and there’s no point.” 

Jamie’s gaze lands on Tyler like a guided missile. Tyler’s across the room leaning against the wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and head tipped back to smile into the face of the guy talking to him. June just sighs. She hip checks him lightly.

“I really think it would go a lot better than you think.”

“I really think it’s not worth the risk,” he replies, eyes still locked on Tyler. “What I have is enough.”

“You’d rather just have this than instead of something more?”

“No, I’d rather have something more  _ in addition _ to this. And if I can’t have that, then it’s not worth the risk.”

“Oh, honey,” June sighs again. She hugs him almost aggressively. He looks down at her as she sniffles.

“It’s fine, June. I promise.”

“WHO WANTS TEQUILA SHOTS?!?” Tyler shouts, directly into Jamie’s ear.

What was left of Jamie’s vodka tonic ends up all over the back of the couch - fortunately, not all over the back of June. Tyler muscles his way between them, bouncing June off the couch with his enthusiasm. He pushes two of the shot glasses he’s holding at Jamie and half turns to pass the last one behind himself to June.

He turns back to Jamie and pulls a salt shaker out of his pocket. Jamie waits, with what he’s sure is ill-disguised terror, but Tyler only licks his own wrist and salts it before passing the shaker to Jamie. Jamie licks the back of his hand, salts it, and leans around Tyler to pass the shaker to June. Who has disappeared. He shakes his head.

As he straightens up, Tyler leans in close to ask, “What are we drinking to?”

“Daydreams,” Jamie replies a little bitterly.

Tyler regards him with that special level of drunken seriousness. “To daydreams. May all yours come true.”

He keeps his eyes on Jamie’s as he licks his wrist again and as he tosses back the tequila. Jamie can’t deal with that; he closes his eyes as he follows suit.

This is fine. This is enough. 

 

_ You're just a daydream away _

_ I wouldn't know what to say if I had you _

_ And I'll keep you a daydream away _

_ Just watch from a safe place _

_ So I never have to lose _

 

_ You're just a daydream away _

_ I wouldn't know what to say if I had you _


End file.
